OLD AND NEW. .
Oh , nometlmoH slciuns upon our flight ,
Throuvh pre.rnt wronz the otornot right.
And step by ntep slnco Umn boifnn
Wo ace the stoiuly aim ol man.
That all of jooil Um past hath had
Kcrnalns to malco onr own tttno
Our common dully life tJHInc ,
And every land u Paloatinu.
the harsh nolaos of our fliy
A low , 8Wol nrcliulo iinds Its way :
Through cloudn of tloiitt and cro&da or fear
A light it breaking calm end clear.
Henceforth my ucit shall filzh no moro
Forohlcn tltiv,1 ami lioHo * here :
GoU'H love ami ljoi3R ! ! thni siud thcro
Are now and hero und ovcrvwhero.
-John G. Whlttler.
PERCY AND THE PROPHET.
nv COLM.VS.
CHAPTER IV COMTIKL'KDL
' After an interval , Percy put the
customary question. jl'ho sleeper
answered , wearily :
"J &eo the inside of a traveling1
carriage , " ho said. "The lady is
ono of the persons in it. There is a
man with. her. There is " Ho
stopped and 1 cgan to breathe heavi
ly ; tlio grasp of Ins hand relaxed.
"Ain I the ? "
man Percy asked.
"Or is it Captain Bcrvio again ? "
Dr. Lagardo aroused himself , by a
r last uffort , to reply. "I can't tell
you , " ho murmured drowsily. "My
eyes are aching ; the darkness bailies
rae. i have toiled long enough for
vou. Drop my hand , and leave mete
Jf to rest. "
\ Hearing those words , Mine. La
gardo npivoaclied her son's chair.
"It will be useless , sir. to ask him
any more questions to-night , " she
wind. "Ho has been weak and nerv
ous all day. and ho is worn out by
the cifort he has made. Pardon rae
if .1 ask you to stop aside for a mo
ment while I give him the re pus e
that he needs. "
She laid her right band
gently on the doctor's head ,
and'kept it there foe a minute or so.
Are you at rest now ? " she asked.
I am at rest , " be answered , ia
faint , drowsy tones.
Mine. Lajjardo returned to Pevcy.
"If you are nut yet satisfied , " she
said , "my son will bs at your service
to-morrow evening , sir. "
"Thanl : you , madam ; T have
only one more question to ask. and
you can no doubt answer it. When
your aon wakes , will ho remember
what ho has said to Captain Bervio
and myself.-1
"My son will be ai absolutely
ignorant of everything that ho has
seen , and of everything that be lias
eaid. in the trance , as if he had been
at the other end of tlie world. "
Percy Liuwood followed this la.st
outragious assertion with an effort
which be was quite unable to conceaL -
ceaL "Many thanks , madam , " he
said ; "I wish , you good-night. "
lie-turning to the waiting-room , he
noticed the money-box fixed to the
table. "Those look "
people poor. he
thought to himself , "and I feel
really indebted to them for an
amusing evening. Besides , I can
afford to bo liberal , for I shall
certainly never go back. " He drop
ped a five-pound note into the money
box , and left the bouse.
CHAPTER V.
The Ball-Kooni.
"While tbo consultation at Dr.
La-rardo's was still fresh in the
memory of the persons present at it.
Chance , or Destiny , occupied in
sowing the scads for the harvest of
the future , discovered as ono of its
lit instruments a retired military
officer named Major Muqh.
Knowing everybody and being
welcome everywhere , pla3ring a good
hand at whist , and having an in
exhaustible fancy in the invention of
a dinner , Major Much naturally
jbelonged to all the best clubs of his
time. Percy Linwood and he con
stantly met iii the billiard-room or
at the dinner-table. The major ap
proved of tbo easy , handsome ,
pleasant tempered young man. "I
have lost the fir.it freshness of
youth , " he used to say. modestly , of
himself , "and I see it revived , as it
were , in Percy. .Naturally I like
Percy. "
About three we3ks after the
memorable evening at Dr. Laga i'de's ,
the two friends encountered each
other oil the steps of a club.
"Got anything to do to-night ? "
asked the major.
"Nothing that I know of. " said
Percy , " ; inless 1 go to the theater. "
"Let Iho theater waib , my boy.
My old regiment srives a ball
at"Woolwich to-night. I have
got a ticket to spare and I
know several sweet girls who
.are going. Some of them waltz.
Percy. Gather your rosebuds while
you may. Come with me. "
The invitation was accepted as
i-ea illy as it .was given. The major s
.found the carriage , and Percy paid sg
'for the pool-houses. They entered
the ballroom among the earlier f
guests ; and the first person whom c
they met. waiting near the door , was "
Captain Bervie.
Perev bowed , a little uneasily. "I
feel some doubt. " bo said laughing ,
whether wo have been properly in
troduced to cash other or not ! "
"Not properly introduced ! " cried
Major Much" . "I'll set that right.
My dear friend , Percy Linwood : my
dear -friend. Arthur Borvic ba
known to each , other ; esteem each
otherl"
Captain Eervic acknowledged the
introduction-by a cold-salute. Percy ,
yielding to tUe good-natured impulse
of the nionient. began to speak ol the
mesmeric consultation.
"You missed something worth
hearing when , you left the doctor the
" "
other "iiisrlit. " ho said. "We con
tinued the sitting : and you turned up
again among the persons of the doc
tor's drama in quite a new character.
Imagine yourself if you please in a
Cottage parlor "
' Excuse me for interrupting you , "
said Captain Bervio. "I am a inera-
hpr of the committee charged with
tne arrangements of the ball , and I
must really attend to my dut'.es. "
Ho withdrew without waiting fora
reply , l crcy looked round \vonder-
ingly at Major Much. "Strange , " ho
fcaid. "I feel rather attracted to
ward Captain Bervie ; and he seems $ o
little attracted , on his side , that ho
can hardly behave to mo with com
mon civility. What dees it mean ? "
"I'll tell you. " answered" the ma
jor , confidentially. "Arthur Borvie
is madly in love madly is really the
word , my boy with a Miss Bow
moro. And ( this js between our
selves ) the young lady doesn't feel it
quite in the sa : o way. A sweet
girl : I've often bad her on my knee
when she was a child. Her father
and mother aye od ! friends cf mine.
.Cbo is coming to the bull to night
That's the true reason why Artnur
left you just now. Look at him
waiting to be the first to speak to
bar. If ho could have his way , ho
wouldn't let another man 00:110 near
the poor girl all through the even
ing ; be really persecutes her. I'll
introduce yon , Percy ; and you will
see how ho looks at us for presuming
to approach her. It's a great pity ;
she will never marry him. Arthur
Bcrrie is a high-minded , honorable
fellow , a man in a thousand : but he's
fast becoming a perfcc-t bear under
tiie strain oa his tcuipor. What's
tha matter ? You don't secin to bo
listening to mo. "
This last remark was perfectly jus
tified. In tolling tha captain's love
story , Maier Much had revived his
young friend's memory of tha lady
in the bltuj dross , who had haunted
the inosiarie visions of Dr. Lagardo.
"Toll me. " said Percy , "what is Miss
Bov.'inoro like ? Is there any tiling
remarkable in her personal appear
ance : ' I have a reason fo. ' asking. "
As he spoke , there arose among
th ; gue&ts in the rapidly filling ball
room a low murmur 01 surprise and
admiration. The major laid one
hand on Percy's shoulder , and lifting
the other , pointed to the door.
"Vi'hat is Jtliss Bowmore like ? " he
repeated. "Tlieru &ho is. my boy !
Let her answer for herself. "
Percy turned toward the lower cud
of tha room. A young lady was en
tering , dreasod in plain silk , and the
color of it was a pale blue. Except
ing a white rose at her breast , she
wore no ornament of any sort.
Doubly rlistiucfi'.ished by the perfect
simplicity of ner apparel and by her
tall , supple , commanding figure , she
took rank at on o us tbo most re
markable woman in the room. Mov
ing nearer { / > bar through the crowd ,
the jrvld-.nco of the corapliis-
ant major , y > i-ijj' Lin wood paired a
clsaror view of her hair , her complex
ion , and the o-oior of inv eyes. In
every one of these particulars the
was the living image of the woman
described by Dr. Lagarda !
While Percy WHS absorbed over
this strange discovery , Major Much
had got within ti-'Giiking distance of
tha young bi'iy and of 'her mother ,
as th y s'-.n'xl * r > r.3tvn' ; ! in. conversa
tion with Captain Bervie. "My dear
Mrs. Br.winoro , how ' .veil you are
looking ! My dis.Tis3 Charlotte ,
what a sencsvMon you have made
already ! " cried the corilial little
man. "The glorious simplicity ( if I
may so express myself ) o ! your dress
is is w hat was 1 going to say ?
the ideas como thronging on mo ; 1
merely want words. "
Here Major Much waved bis hand ,
with all the lingers well open , a-s if
words were circulating in the air of
tb/j room , and ho meant to catch
them. Miss Charlotte burst into a
little silvery laush : her magnificent
brown eyes , wandering from the
lo Percy , rested on the younjr
man with a modest and momentary ]
interest , which Captain Bervie's
jealous attention instantly detected.
"They are forming Iho dance ,
Miss Bowmora. " he said , pressing
forward impatiently. "If we don't
take our places ve shall bo too late. "
"Stop ! stop ! " cried the major.
' Tliers is a , time for everything , and
tuia is the time for presenting my
dear friend ho re. Mr. Percv Linwood.
He is like nu. Miss Charlotte he
has bson struck by the glorious sim
plicity , and he wants words. " At
this part of the presentation he hap
pened to look toward the irate cap
tain , and instantly gave him a hint
on the aubjees of his temper. "I say ,
Arthur Borvie , we are all good-
humored people here. What have
you got on your eyebrows ? It looks
like a frown , and it doesn't become
you. Send for a skilled waiter , and
have it brushed off and taken away
directly ! "
I ask. Miss 15ownioie. if you *
ai' " disongaguA. for the next dance ? "
said Percy , the moment the major
gave him an opportunity of speakin
"Miss Bowmora is engaged to me
for the u ° xt dunce , " said the angry
captaia , before the young lady could
"The third dauco. then ? " Percy
Dsrsistnd , in hir quietest manner ,
and with hin brightestsmile. .
With pleasure1 , Mr. Linwood , "
saM ? .H.-- 13ov.-ir.orc. She would have
boon -.o H'"o Y/ojiisiri if she had notre
ro ' " " 1 ir | " ' < " > peu exhibition of
AvJih-v'3 jealousy : it was like assert-
in n , right c""V her to v.'hich ho bad j " '
not i'.io'shndovr oi n claim. She | r
threw a looic at Percy as her partuer
led hoi I'Viy. v.'hich was the severest
putiishnnt she could inflict on the
man who avl-ntly loved her.
The tai.-d. 1 iiioo stood in tbo program -
gram as : i. wc.lt.- ' .
partner's hand.
Charlctta hesitated , and looked
at her
waits ? " said Percy. V
"Surely you
* _ . . .
* " *
"I liava learned to waltz , she
anav.-orcd , modestly ; "but thisis
such a lar o room , sir , and thcro are
so many people. "
"Once round , " Percy pleaded ;
"only once round. "
She looked again at her mother ;
her foot was keeping tirao with the
music , under her dress ; her heart
was beating with a delicious excite-
ment. Kind-hearted Mrs. Bowmoro
smiled , and said , "Once round , my
dear , as Mr. Linwood suggests.
In another moment Percy's arm
took possession of her waist unc
they were away on the wings of the
waltz ! Could words describe , coult
thought realize , the exquisite enjoy
ment of the dance ? Knjoyment ? It
was moro it was an ep.'ch in
Charlotte's life it wa ? the first time
she had waltzed with a man. What
differences between the fervenl
clasp of Percy's arm and the cold ,
formal contact of the mistress who
had taught her ! How brightly his
eyes looked down into hers , admiring
her with such a tender restraint that
there could be no harm in looking
up at him now and then in return.
Bound and round they glided , ab
"sorbed in the music and in thorn-
salves. Occasionally her bosom just
touched his , at those critical mo
ments when she was most in need of
Mipport At other intervals she almost
lef her head sink on his shoulder in
trying to hide from him the smile
which acknowledged his admiration
too boldly. "Once round. " Percy had
suggested ; "once round"hermother
bad said. They had been twenty ,
thirty , forty times round ; they had
never stopped to rest , like other
dancers ; they had the eyes of the
whole room on them 'ncluding the
eyes of Captain Bervio without
knowing it ; her delicately pale com
plexion had changed to rosy red ; the
neat arrangement of her hair had be
come disturbed : her bosom was
rising and falling faster in the effort
to breathe before the fatigue and
the heat overpowered her at last ,
and forced her to siy : to him , faintly ,
'I'm very " sorry 1 can't dance any
more.
Percy led her into the cooler at
mosphere of the refreshment-room ,
and revived her with a glass of lem-
tfnade. Her arm still rested on his
she was just about to thank him
for the care he had taken of her
when Captain Bervie entered the
room. Ho was palo. with the marked
and sinister pallor of suppressed
rage ; but when ho spoke to Percy be
still preserve ! his self-control , and
expressed bimself with scrupulous
politeness.
"Mrs. ! : owmorc wishes me to take
you bask to her , " he said to
Charlotte. Then , turning to Percy ,
he added , "Will you kindly wait here
while I lake Miss Bowmoro to the
ball-room ? I have a word to aay to
you 1 will return directly. "
Left alone in the refreshment-
room , Percy sat down to cool and
rest himsslf. With his experience
ot the ways of men , ho felt no sur
prise nt the marked contrast be
tween Captain Bervie's face and Cap-
tnn Bervio's manner. "He has seen
us waltzing , and he is coming back
to pick a quarrel with me. " Such
was the interpretation which Mr.
LiuwoocVs knowledge cf the world
placed on Capiain Bervitj's po
liteness. In a , minute or two
more 'the captain returned to the
rofreshmentii'oom , and satisfied
Percv that his anticipations had noi
deceived him.
[ TO IK CONTINUED. ]
COLOHS OFTHE EARTH.
_
The Omistiii Cliffs of Grncnlnml Green
on to ! .Moora.
The wonderful difference between
the same landscape in winter and in
summer is a phenomenon familiar to
a'l ' dwellers in the temperate zones.
The two great elements of changes
are the presence of snow in winter
and of leaves and grass in summer.
f we could look at our globe from
the moon the variation in its aspect
due to seasonal changes would per
haps bo even more striking than it
appears to those upon its surface.
in fact , we sometimes loss sight of
the very important part which vege
tation plays in giving color to what
might bo called the countenance of
lac planet , says Youth's Companion.
It is not the high forms of plants
that always produce the greatsst ef
fect in this way. Rome of the most
striking .scenes upon earth ows their
characteristic features to mosses
and licbciia. The famous "crimson I
cliffs" of Greenland , which extend
for miles northward from Cape York.
derive their splendid color from the
growth of red lichen which covers
their faces.
The cliffs rise between 1,700 and
2.00U feet straight from the water's
edge , and being composed of gray
granite their aspect would bo en
tirely different from what it is But
for the presence of the lichen. "
Coming to less magnificent but
not less baautiful scenery , the rocky
pass called the Golden Gats in the
Yellowstone national park owes its
rich color and its nameto the yel
low lichen covering its lofty walls ;
and the indescribable lines of the
great hot-spring terraces arise mainly
from the prcaencu of minute plants
nourishing in the water that o/er- n
flows them.
p
Considered as a whole , the vegetation
a
tation of a planet may give it a char aa ah
acteristic aspect as viewed from a
space. Many have thought that the tl
red color of Mars may be due to the tlti
existence of rod instead of green
Q
vegetation there.
That its broad expanses of forest vo
and prairie land cause the earth to
reilect a considerable quantity of j t
green light to its neighbors is indii i
catcd by the fact that at the time of
the new moon a greenish tint hag
been detected overspreading tha
part of the lunar surface v.'hich is
Then illuminated only by light from I
the earth.
Have no friends not equal to 3'oar- j !
self. Goaf ucius. I
TALMAGE'S SE MOK
. 'STORM CLOUDS BRIGHTENED"
| SUNDAY'S SUBJECT.
]
ITrom the Text Job 37:21 ns Follows :
"And Now Mon See Not tlio Urlght
Light Which Is In the Clouds' ' Com
fort of Christian Teachings.
Wind east. Barometer falling. Storm-
signals out. Ship reefing maintopsail !
Awnings taken in. Prophecies of foul
weather everywhere. The clouds con
gregate around the sun , proposing to
abolish him. But after a while he as
sails the flanks of the clouds with fly
ing artillery of light , and here and
there is a sign of clearing weather.
Many do not observe it. Many do not
realize it. "And now men see not the
bright light which is in the clouds. "
In other words there are a hundred men
looking for storm where there is one
niaii looking for sunshine. My object
will be to get you and myself into the
delightful habit of making the best of
everything.
You may have wondered at the sta
tistics that in India , in the year 1875 ,
there were over 19,000 people slain by
wild beasts , and that in the year 1876
there were in India over 20,000 people
destroyed by wild animals. But there
is a monster in our own laud which is
year by year destroying more than
that. It is the old bear of melancholy ,
and with gospel weapons I propose to
chase it back to its midnight caverns.
I mean to do two sums a sum in sub
traction and a sum in addition a sub
traction from your days of depression
and an addition to your days of joy. If
God will help me I will compel you to
see the bright light that there is in the
clouds , and compel you to make the
best of everything.
In the first place , you ought to malu
the very best of all your financial mis
fortunes. During the panic a few years
ago you all lost money. Some of you
lost it in most unaccountable ways.
For the question , "How many thous
ands of dollars shall I put aside this
year ? " you substituted the question ,
"How shall I pay my butcher , and
baker , and clothier , and landlord ? "
You had the sensation of rowing hard
with two oars , and yet all the time
going clown stream.
You did not say much about it be
cause it was not politic to speak much
of financial embarrassment ; but your
wife knew. Less variety of wardrobe ,
more economy at the table , self-denial
in art and tapestry. Compression ; re
trenchment. Who did not feel the ne
cessity of it ? My friend , did you make
the best of this ? Are you aware of
how narrow an escape you made ? Sup
pose you had reached the fortune to
ward which you were rapidly going ?
What then ? You would have been as
proud as Lucifer.
How few men have succeeded largely
in j a financial sense and ydt maintained
their simplicity and religious consecra
tion ! Not one man out of a hundred.
There are glorious exceptions , but the
general rule is that in proportion as a
man gets well off for this world he gets
poorly off for the next. He loses his
sense of dependence on God. He gets a
,
distaste for prayer meetings. With
plenty of bank stocks and plenty of
government securities , what does that
man knows of prayer , "Give me this
day my daily bread ? " How few men
largely successful in this world are
bringing souls to Christ , or showing
self-denial for others , or are eminent
for piety ! You can count them all up
on your eight fingers and two thumbs.
One of the old covetous souls , when
he was sick , and sick unto death , used
to have a basin brought in a basin
filled with gold , and his only amusement -
ment and the only relief he got for his
inflamed hands was running them down
through the gold and turning it up in
the basin. Oh , what infatuation and
what destroying power money has for
many a man ! Now , you were sailing
at thirty knots the hour toward th se
vortexes of worldliness
what a mercy
t was , that honest defalcation ! The
same divine hand that crushed your
store-house , your bank , your office ,
your insurance company , lifted you out *
of destruction. The day you honestly
suspended in business made your fortune - S
tune for eternity. a
"Ohr" you say. "I could get along S
very well myself , but I am so disappointed - j
pointed that I cannot leave a compe
tence for my children. " My brother , a
the same financial misfortune that is
c
going to save your soul will save your
children. With the anticipation of "
large fortune , how much industry
s
would your children have ? without
T
which habit of industry there is no
safety. The young man would say ,
"Well , there's no need of my working ;
my father will soon step out , and then
I'll have just what I want. " You cannot - ?
not hide from him how much you are *
worth. You think you are hiding it ; e
he knows all about it. He can tell you
almost to a dollar. Perhaps he has
been to the county office and searched
the records of deeds and mortgages ,
and he has added it all up , and he has !
made an estimate of how long you will "
probably stay in this world , and is not
as much worried about your rheumat
ism and shortness of breath as you
are. The only fortune worth anything
that you can give your child is the for
tune you put in his head and heart.
Of all the young men who started life
with $40.000 capital , how many turned
out well ? I do not know half a dozen.
Again. I remark , you ought to make
the very best of your bereavements.
The whole tendency is to brood over
these separations , and to give much
time to the handling of mementoes of
the departed , and to make long visita
tions to the cemetery , and to say , "Oh ,
can never look up again ; my 1'ope is
gone : my courage is gone ; ray religion
: jone : my faith in God 5s one ! Oh.
the wear and tear and exhaustion cf
this loneliness ! " The most frequent
bereavement Is the loss of children. If
your departed child had lived as long
as you have lived , do you not suppose
that he would have had about the same
amount of trouble and trial that you
have had ? If you could make a choice
for'your child between forty years of
annoyance , loss , vexation , exaspera
tion and bereavements , and forty years
in heaven , would you take the respon
sibility of choosing the former ? Would
you snatch away the cup of eternal
bliss and put into that child's hands the
cup of many bereavements ? Instead
of the complete safety into which that
child has been lifted , would you like
to hold it down to the risks of this
mortal state ? Would you like to keep
it out on a sea in which there have
been more shipwrecks than safe voy
ages ? Is it not a comfort to you to
know that that child , instead of being
besoiled and flung into the mire of sin ,
is swung clear into the skies ? Are not
those children to be congratulated that
the point of celestial bliss which you
expect to reach by a pilgrimage of fifty
or sixty or seventy years , they reached
at a flash ? If the last ten thousand
children who had entered heaven had
gone through the average of human
life on earth , are you sure all those ten
thousand children would have finally
reached the blissful terminus ? Besides
that , my friends , you are to look at
this matter as a self-denial on your
part for their benefit. If your children
want to go off in a Maj'-day party ; if
your children want to go on a flowery
and musical excursion , you consent.
You might prefer to have them with
you , but their jubilant absence satis
fies you. Well , your departed children
have only gone out in a May-day par
ty , amid flowery and musical entertain
ment , amid joys and hilarities forever.
That ought to quell some of your grief ,
the thought of their glee.
Some of you talk as though God had
exhausted himself in building this
'urld , and that all the rich curtains
he ever made he hung around this plan
et , and all the flowers he ever grew he
has woven into the carpet of our dais
ied meadows. No. This world is not
the best thing God can do ; this world
is not the best thing that God has done.
One week of the year is called bios-
som week called so all through the
land because there are more blossoms
in that week than in any other week of
the year. Blossom week ! And that
is what the future world is to which
the Christian is invited blossom week
forever. It is as far ahead of this
world as Paradise is ahead of Dry Tor-
tugas , and yet here we stand shivering
and fearing to go out , and we want to
stay on the dry sand , and amid the
stormy petrels , when we are invited to
arbors of jessamine and birds of pare
adise.
One season I had two springtimes ,
I went to New Orleans in April , and
I marked the difference between going
toward New Orleans and then coming 1
back. As I went on down toward New
Orleans the verdure , the foliage , bet
came thicker and mere beautiful. When
I came back , the further I came toward t
home the less the foliage , and less and
less it became until there was hardly
any. Now , it all depends upon the direction -
rection in which you travel. If a
spirit from heaven should come toward a
our world , he is traveling from June h
toward December , from radiance to- If
ward darkness , from hanging gardens w
toward icebergs. And one would not w
be very much surprised if a spirit of tl
God sent forth from heaven toward our
world should be slow to come. But
how strange it is that we dread going
out toward that world when going is
C
from December toward June from the
snow of earthly storm to the snow of
! Si
Edenic blossom from the arctics of
f
trouble toward the tropics of eternal
It
joy.
joy.Ob si
Ob , what an ado about dying ! We sifr
get so attached to the malarial marsh frhi
in which we live that we are afraid to hiD
go up and live on the hilltop. We are al
alarmed because vacation is coming. alp
Eternal sunlight , and best programme
p
of celestial minstrels and hallelujah , m
no inducement. Let us stay here and
p
keep cold and ignorant and weak. Do
ai
not introduce us to Elijah , and John al
Milton and Bcurdaloue. Keep our feet
se
on the sharp cobble-stones of earth instead
tl
stead of planting them on the bank of
amaranth in heaven. Give us this 1O
small island of a leprous world instead "
of the immensities of splendor and de
a
light. Keep our hands full of nettles , abe
be
and cur shoulder under the burden , beT
and our neck in the yoke , and hopples
on our ankles , and handcuffs on our mW'
W'
wrists. "Dear Lord , " we seem to say ,
ct
"keep ns down nere where we have to
suffer , instead of letting us up where cc
hi
we might live and reign and rejoice. "
I am amazed at myself and at yourself taTl
Tl
self for this infatuation under which
deer
we all rest. Men you would suppose
or
would get frightened at having to stay orw
in this world instead of getting frightened '
'ul
ened at having to go toward heaven. I
congratulate anybody who has a right
to die. By that I mean through sick
ness you cannot avert , or through acci
dent you cannot avoid your work con bu
summated. "Where did they bury feiGi
Lily ? " said one little child to another. Gi
"Oh , " she replied , "they buried her in ca
the ground. " "What ! in the cold ch
ground ? " "Oh , no , no ; not in the cold ar
ground , but in the warm ground , where nc
ugly seeds become beautiful flowers. " Ce
"But , " says some one. "it pains me
so much to think that I must lose the
body with which my soul has so long
companioned. " You do not lose it.
You .no mere Icse your body by death iia
than you loss your watch when jou da
send it to have it repaired , or your sti
jewel when you send it to have it reset , re
or the faded picture when you send it in
inv
to have it touched up , or the photo \ ve <
graph of a friend when you have it put
in a new locket. You do not lose your
hotly. Paul will go to Rome to get his. T !
Payson will go to Portland to get his.
President Edwards will go to Princeton ru
to get his , George Cooknian- will go > to >
the bottom of the Atlantic to- get his.
and we will go to the village churchV
yards and the city cemeteries to get
ours ; and when we have-our perfect
spirit rejoined to our perfect ! body , then :
we will be the kind of men and women
that the resurrection morning will !
make possible.
So you see you have not made out'
any doleful story yet. What have you
proved about death ? What Is the case *
you have made out ? You have made
out Just this that death allows us to
have a perfect body , free of all aches ,
united forever with a perfect soul free
from all sin. Correct your theology.
What does it all mean ? Why , It means
that moving day is coming , and that
you are going to quit cramped apart
ments , and be mansioned forever. The
horse that stands at the gate will not
be the one lathered and bespattered ,
carrying bad news , but it will be the
horse that St. John saw in Apocalyptic
vision the white horse on which the
King comes to the banquet. The ground > ' fl
around the palace will quake with the
tires and hoofs of celestial equipage ,
and those Christians who in this world
lost their friends and lost their prop
erty , and lost their health , and lost
their life , will find out that God was
always kind , and that all things work
ed together for their good , and that
those were the wisest people on earth
who made the best of everything. See
you not now the bright light in the
clouds ?
GLADSTONE PICTURES.
Story of Ills Physiognomy ns Told by
tlio Brush.
One of the curious things about Mr.
Gladstone is the difference which years
have produced both in his appearance
and expression. At all times he must
have been a handsome man. But
strangely enough , when he entered the
house of commons in his twenty-sec- _
end year , it was the beauty that seem
ed to point to premature death. "His
face , " said Mr. McCarthy , "was pallid ,
almost bloodless , " and the pallor was
brought into greater life by the abun
dant and intensely black hair and the
J
large , fiery black eyes that blazed up
on the world. Different portraits of
Mr. Gladstone form an interesting
study. The face that looks cut from
the portrait of 1832 is thin : the fea
tures look sharp ; the cheeks have the
smoothness and the moderate fullness
of youth ; of the mouth , beautifully
shaped , full , and yet not large , the
dominant expression is sweetness and
tranquillity. In a later picture one
sees the cheeks expanding , the chin
getting squarer , the brow heavier and
the mouth stronger , larger and grim
mer. The expression is altogether one
of seriousness , strenuousness , almost
of frowning earnestness. And then
when one comes to the portraits of old
age there is ano'ther and quite as great
a transformation. The heavy , black
locks < have , of course , disappeared , and
this brings out the enormous size of
the ] head , large in brow and in back ;
the mouth appears , again , to be fuller
than ] even in middle age , and the whole
face has broadened ; but the expression
has lost all the stern and strenuous
gravity of middle age , as well as the
sweet softness of youth , and there is
genial smile , as of the warrior who
has done all his fighting and can now
look with some detachment , and even
with some humor , on the battlefield
which knows him no more. McCar
thy's Life of Gladstone.
Died for His Mistress.
A line instance of canine devotion
comes to us from Kansas , through the
columns of the Topeka State Journal.
Samuel Dodge , a ranchman , living
southwest of Topeka , went to Vinita ,
Indian Territory , on business , and
shortly after he had gone , Bessie , his
five-year-old girl , wandered away from
home in an attempt to follow him. Mrs.
Dodge discovered the child's absence
about two hours after Mr. Dodge's de
parture. ; She made a search of the
premises ] , and failing to find the child ,
notified the neighbors of her disap
pearance. They turned out in force ,
and scoured the prairies all day , and
all that night and all the next day ,
searching for the little wanderer. Late
the following evening an Indian came
upon 1 her fast asleep just south of Post
Dak ; creek , in an old road known as the
whisky trail. " Across her bcdy stood
Newfoundland dcg , which had always
been her companion about the ranch ,
fhe ! dog was torn and bleeding , and
near his feet lay the bodies of two
wolves. ' Although the little girl's
cheeks were stained with tears and :
covered with dust she
, was quite un
banned. She and her protector were
taken home , a distance of twelve miles *
Ihe dog died that night. He received a
lecent burial , and his master at once
jrdered a marble monument , which
svill be placed at the head of the faith-
animal's grave.
The Farmer Prosperity's
FottmTutloij.
Bunco Bill - '
BillThere's no use talking.
usiness is improving. The farmers are
'eeling easier than for four years past. "
Granger Grip "Xo dream , pardner ! I
ran report three gold brick sales , eight
rhecks cashed and sixteen jays shown
iround town for last week , as against
lothing but the sale of a ticket to
entral Park for the corresponding
veek of last year. " Puck.
Washington Evening Star : "It secnu
larder for men to fae really great nbwa-
lays than it was years ago , " said the
student of " '
history. "That's very true. "
eplicd Senator Sorghum ; "very true ,
indeed. But I am inclined to think
get better paid for it nowadays. "
Cigars are often referred to as weeds.
Fhe reason is obvious.
Scorchers and gossips are always
running other people down.
